


Music Night

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Eagle and the Cross [51]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen, Sea Shanties, haytham says fuck it, joins the party, music night, shay gets drunk, shay has a nice singing voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since getting the Morrigan, on Saturday nights Shay hosts a music night. Haytham is very displeased with this, and tries to quell the merriment as they sail north to deliver the final blow to the American Brotherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Night

Boots thunked against the deck, boisterous laughter, and loud jeering singing drifted down to the one of the cabin's on the Morrígan. Haytham frowned, wondering why they have stopped. Have they become becalmed, did a sail tear? It was unlike Shay to just stop in the middle of the ocean. They had a mission to complete, and time was of the essence. He closed his journal, snapped his inkwell close, set his quill down before getting up to investigate.

He came topside to a starry night, the auroras shimmering like a multi-colored serpent in the sky. The night was cold and crisp, a chill breeze buffed him and he blew on his hands to keep them warm and pulled his coat around him tighter. The night sky was clear as crystal and the north Atlantic was black as ink and glass smooth, small icebergs drifted pass, blue-white in the darkness, a sliver of moon was overhead.

One the deck was the off-duty members of the Morrígan's crew, they had gathered all the lanterns in the center, two had fiddles and a few others had tin whistles, the rest kept time with stomps and claps and sang along to whatever song they were currently singing. Tankards of grog were in hands or near at hand on barrels. A few of the men were even dancing. "Ah, evening Master Kenway," Gist called from his game of cards. Haytham scowled at Shay's first mate.

"Oi, Haytham!" Shay shouted, raising his tankard. "Bloody glad ya could join us!" The Morrígan's captain walked over, a wide grin on his face. He clapped Haytham on the back in an overly friendly manner. "I was 'bout ta come an' getcha, can't be havin' ya a stick in th' mud on Music Night!" Shay turned and gave a sharp whistle. "Oi, Sean get the Grand Master a tankard an' fill her up!"

Sean nodded, scooped up an empty tankard and filled it with grog, he trotted over and shoved it into Haytham's hands. He had no choice but to accept the sailor's brew and the lad flashed him a grin and ran back to the circle of lantern light. "Shay, what is the meaning of this?" Haytham hissed, glaring at Shay then at his grog then at Gist then back at Shay. He was torn who was he more bad at, Gist for not bring Shay in line or Shay for even pulling a stunt like this. "We have a mission at hand, we have to get to the precursor site _before_ the Assassins do," Haytham said, "or have you forgotten that?"

"We'll get there," Shay said, "but it's Saturday night, an' that means its music night, come, be merry, I'm sure ya know a few good songs, considering ya da was a pirate."

"Please," Haytham said tightly, "do not speak of my father."

"Cap'n! Its ya turn!" one of the sailors shouted, waving Shay back over to the crowd. The sailors began to request songs from the raunchy and crude to the heartbreaking ballads that made them think of their lasses back home.

Shay held up his hands, cleared his throat and began to sing, " _In Banbridge Town in the_ _County Down_ _,_ _one morning last July,_ _from a boreen green came a sweet colleen_ _and she smiled as she passed me by._ _She looked so sweet from her two bare feet_ _,_ _to the sheen of her nut brown hair._ _Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself_ _for to see I was really there!_ "

Haytham was surprised out how rich Shay's voice, it was deep with just the perfect amount of gravel and his Irish came out pronounced but added to the charm of the song. It suddenly brought back memories of his boyhood, when he would go out on the streets of London and the few Irish that dwelled in the city would sing. Haytham eyed his grog and took a small sip.

"Does this always happen?" Haytham asked, inching closer to Gist. The Templar looked up from his cards and stared at his Grand Master.

"Oh, aye," Gist agreed, "Every Saturday night. Apparently, Shay did this when he was an Assassin, kept moral up. He didn't see why he should stop the tradition just because he's a Templar now. The men that have night an' mornin' watches are all abed now."

"He has a good voice," Haytham muttered, watching as Shay finished _The Star of the County Down_. He gave a flourishing bow, grabbed a tankard and drained it's contains. Haytham watched the Irishman's Adam's apple bob with each swallow. Shay bounded over to them.

"C'mon Haytham," Shay said.

"You will address me as Master Kenway or sir," Haytham said tightly. Shay rolled his eyes.

"Haytham," Shay said, "ya need ta drink! Ya ha'en't e'en touched ya grog!" Shay said, trying to push the tankard towards Haytham's mouth. The Grand Master took a step back and scowled.

"Shay, I order you to stop this nonsense. These men need to get to bed, we need to get wind back in our sails and start moving if we are to beat the Assassins."

"Th' Morrígan is th' fastest ship in th' North Atlantic, Achilles is not gunna beat us to it," Shay boasted, "if anythin' we'll get there at th' same time."

"Regardless, I would like to be there _before_ they get there," Haytham said. "So, I order you to call off this foolish frivolity!"

Shay gave Haytham a wicked good grin as he slung his arm over Haytham's shoulders. "Haytham, Haytham, Haytham," Shay said.

"Your drunk," Haytham commented.

"Oh, aye, good an' plastered," Shay grinned, "but that's beside the point. Ya are the Grand Master, an' I respect that, true. But we're on th' Morrígan, an' th' Morrígan is bein' my ship, an' I bein' her cap'n, thus my word aboard th' Morrígan is law an' trumps yours," Shay said, he patted Haytham's chest. "So, I say, fuck off Haytham, its Saturday night an' we're havin' Music Night. If ya want ta be a sour-puss, go back ta ya cabin an' pout, but if ya don't, drink up an' entertain us with a song."

"I'm not singing!" Haytham hissed.

"An't so bad once ya good an' drunk," Shay turned to his crew, "is it lads?" he asked.

"No!" the crew shouted, raising their tankards and clanking them together before taking long swallows of their brew. Shay laughed and turned to Haytham.

"Hear that Haytham? An't so bad," Shay said, gave Haytham one more friendly pat before he went back to his crew. Haytham stared at his tankard, torn between joining the merriment and going back to his cabin.

"Sir," Gist said, Haytham looked at the Morrígan's first mate, "there are times when ya just have to say fuck it."

"I know," Haytham said, staring at the tankard, and if he looked long enough he could see his father, the mast of the Jackdaw II, hear Jenny's laughter, when the world stretched before him and he lived his life by the Creed… a time best left buried and forgotten like his father's body.

"Fuck it," Haytham said and guzzled his tankard of grog.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft


End file.
